


The Game

by jamesgatz1925



Series: FRIENDS [3]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Humor, some strong language by Shitty B Knight, trivia game about each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-10
Updated: 2016-04-10
Packaged: 2018-06-01 13:07:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6520984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jamesgatz1925/pseuds/jamesgatz1925
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You know that episode of Friends where Monica/Rachel bet against Chandler/Joey of who knows who better, and it turns into betting the apartment? Yeah, it's like that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Game

**Author's Note:**

> Some of this stuff is true about the characters, some I made up. For example, Shitty does read Cosmo but I don't know if he subscribes to it or if Jack's mother was ever on the cover. She could have been.

Basically, there was a small fire in the attic. Nobody was harmed, the guys weren’t even home at the time. They say it was something about the old, faulty heater. Luckily a neighbor, who loves going to Haus parties and would’ve hated for it to burn down, saw a little bit of smoke coming from upstairs and didn’t think twice before calling 9-1-1.

They’re thankful, sure, but all of Ransom and Holster’s stuff is either smoked out or has water damage. They’re able to salvage a few of their personal belongings, but all in all the Sports Illustrated Swim Suit poster is ruined, their matching NHL bedspreads are going to stink like fire for a long time, and three of Holtz’s best suits were in the line of, well, fire.

It’s a sad day when they pack up what they can to move down to the living room.

Without even having to exchange a word, Shitty and Jack take pity on the young men and invite one to move in with each of them.

Now, the thing about Justin Olransi and Adam Birkholtz is that they are two great men. Two of the best bro’s you could ever ask for, two of the best d-men in college hockey, two of the best Samwell students. But they’re great together.

Apart, they’re just…obnoxious.

Especially in the middle of the night, when Ransom talks in his sleep and Holster’s deviated septum stops Jack from getting any bit of sleep.

Jack and Shitty meet in their bathroom at 2 AM for the third night in a row.

“This has got to end,” Shitty mutters, scrubbing his face with warm water.

“Agreed,” is all Jack can say, leaning against the sink.

“We can just…share a room a while. I already know you’re better to sleep with than Rans.”

“Alright,” Jack agrees again. “We’ll tell them in the morning.”

“Fuck that, I’m telling them now.”

Shitty gets both of the boys up and the four of them meet in the hall outside Jack’s bedroom.

“Listen, we love you bros, but you are the worst people to sleep with. Jack and I agreed to share a room while you guys are waiting for the attic to be fixed.”

“Really?” Ransom excitedly questions.

“That’s awesome of you guys, thanks!” Holster adds.

At the same time, all four of them begin to talk about arrangements and who gets what room. The problem, however, is that neither Jack nor Shitty want to move, and nobody wants to give up Shitty’s room, which is the largest room in the house.

“Well, obviously we’d get the bigger room, Jack—“

Jack practically whines. “I don’t want to have to move—“

“Jack’s bed is big enough for both of you,” Ransom argues.

“Or you two!” Shitty cries.

“They are not sleeping in my bed!”

“Well, it makes sense for us to get the bigger room,” Holster adds.

“Wait, what?” Shitty questions. “We’re older, we definitely deserve the bigger room.”

“Yeah, but we’re—“

At the same time, Shitty and Jack ask, “You’re what?”

At the same time, Holster and Ransom say, “Bigger.”

Shitty puffs up his chest and gets into their personal space. “I’ll show you bigger!”

At this point, their bickering gets so loud that Bitty stumbles sleepily out of his bedroom into the near fight breaking out.

“Good Lord, just whip ‘em out and measure. Go the hell back to bed.”

All of their eyes bulge out of their heads at Bitty.

“Mr. Bittle, you are cranky,” Shitty says.

“Well, when I know that _someone_ is going to wake me up for checking practice in less than three hours, I have a problem with being woken up in the middle of the goddamn night.”

Shitty glances practically heart-eyed between Jack and Bitty. “He likes to watch the sunrise with you.”

Jack hits Shitty’s arms while Bitty diverts their gazes by rubbing his eyes. Ransom and Holster giggle.

“Alright, what’s going on?” Bitty finally asks.

“Shitty and I agreed to share a room so these two can share a room,” Jack explains, “But now we can’t decide which room to give up.”

Bitty rolls his eyes. “You guys are ridiculous. Look, there’s a way to figure this out fair and square. Flip a coin, draw cards, straws for all I care. Just shut up.”

“Trivia!” Shitty practically sings, leaving the hall excitedly to retreat to his room.

Shitty _loves_ to play trivia games, and they all know it’s because his brain is an encyclopedia of useless shit. Ask him what the number one song was first week of July in 1987 was, he’ll tell you it was I Wanna Dance With Somebody (Who Loves Me) by Whitney Houston. Ask him what he had for dinner last night he’ll ask himself if even ate dinner.

The problem with this particular trivia game is that Jack is the worst trivia player in all of history. In _all_ of history.

When Shitty returns, happily holding the game box, they remind him of his.

As he walks up, grinning and whistling, Holster says, “If you expect to be on a team with Jack and beat us at trivia, you might as well give us your key right now, Shits.”

Shitty slumps and almost drops the box. “Fucking hell Zimmermann!”

Jack shrugs, not even trying to defend himself. Even he knows he’s the worst trivia player ever.

“Wait, I have an idea,” Ransom offers. “We’ll play a trivia about ourselves.”

All of them stare at him confused.

“Yeah, yeah!” Rans continues. “Bitty will make up questions and we’ll, y’know, answer them.”

Bitty sighs. “Guys!”

“Come on Bits, it’ll be fun.”

* * *

 

Since they’re all up anyway, they start a Mario Kart tournament while Bitty makes up the questions. Jack cancels checking practice for the next morning, and for that Bitty is so very, very thankful.

Around 5 o’clock, the game is ready, so Shitty makes some Irish coffees and they settle around the sitting room to play.

Notecards are stuck to the white board they use to go over plays and things.

“Alright, as you can see there are five categories,” Bitty says. “Childhood, adolescence, adulthood, favorite things, and personal. Like family questions and stuff like that.”

The guys nod in understanding.

Bitty points to the rows of cards. “These questions are worth ten, these ones twenty, and these ones thirty points. Under each point, the question you’ll get is about either teammate. For example, I’ll tell you 10 for Childhood is about Jack and Rans. You’ll be answering questions about the other couple.”

“Ah, so it’s that kind of game,” Shitty coolly says, relaxing back against the couch. “I thought I was answering questions about Jack. Newlywed Game style.”

“Please, we’d smoke you two at that,” Ransom says. He and Holtz fist bump.

“Alright,” Bitty says after a sip of his coffee. “Y’all ready?”

All the guys nod excitedly.

“I’m flipping a coin to see who goes first,” Bitty says. “Jack, call it in the air.”

“Why does Jack get to call it?!” Ransom questions.

“Best ass goes first,” Shitty tells him.

Bitty blushes slightly. “Okay, okay. Just go. Someone call it.”

He flips the coin; Jack calls heads and Ranson and Holster call tails.

Heads wins. Ransom and Holster call bullshit, but then let up and insist the losers go first.

Jack picks the first question, Adulthood for ten points.

“How old is Rans?” Bitty asks.

“Are you fucking joking?!” Rans yells. “How old am I?!”

“Ten point question, man!” Bitty replies.

“21,” Jack says before anyone can argue again.

“10 points for team Zimshits.”

“Zimshits?” Shitty asks. “I kind of like Zitty. Or Shack. Or Shitermann!”

Bitty rolls his eyes and erases Zimshits from the scoreboard and instead writes Shitermann.

Ransom chooses the next question, Childhood for 20 points.

“What was Shitty for Halloween when he was seven?”

“Wonder Woman!” Holster answers.

Bitty awards twenty points to team Ransoltz.

The game goes on, nobody ever missing a question.

 _How old was Holtz when he lost his virginity?_ 17.

 _Where does Shitty’ mom live?_ Cambridge.

 _What was in Ransom’s last care package from his mom?_ Three bottles of syrup.

 _How many followers does Jack’s ass have on twitter?_ 16,000.

 _What is Holster’s favorite TV show?_ 30 Rock.

 _What word does Shitty insist he made up?_ Kegster.

 _What is Ransom’s major?_ Biology.

 _What instrument did Jack give up after trying for three weeks last year?_ Ukulele.

An hour later, after all the questions are asked, the teams are tied.

Bitty pulls an envelope from his back pocket. “Luckily, I prepared for this,” he says, ripping the paper and pulling out a stack of notecards with lightning bolts colored on the back.

“Each team gets only five questions,” Bitty explains. “But only thirty seconds to answer all of them.”

“You guys can go first,” Ransom offers this time. “Because I want a dramatic win at the finish.”

Shitty and Jack don’t argue, they get up and move around a little bit while Bitty gets their cards set.

“Ok, ready?” Bitty asks, getting his phone out to time it.

The boys nod, so Bitty starts the clock and asks the questions.

“What is the name of the inn where Rans and Holtz meet in Niagra Falls?”

“Red Coach Inn!” Shitty yells.

“How the hell do you guys know that?” Holtz asks.

Bitty ignores him. “What Hogwarts House was Holtz sorted into?”

Jack perks up. “Gryffindor!”

“Oh, not you too, Zimms!” Ransom cries.

Bitty goes on. “Holtz says his favorite movies are the Star Wars trilogies, but it’s actually…”

“Return To Me!”

“Who was Ransom’s first celebrity crush?”

“Leonardo Dicaprio!” Jack excitedly yells. Shitty pats him proudly on the back.

“Love that dude.” Ransom confirms. “I’ll never let go, Jack.”

Jack rolls his eyes.

“Last one,” Bitty says. “Why does Rans wear number 11?”

Shitty clasps Jack’s shoulder again. “For Bad Bob himself.”

As Bitty shuts the phone timer off before it starts to ring.

“My favorite Canadian,” Ransom says with a toothy grin right at Jack.

Jack rolls his eyes and throws himself onto the couch.

“Just chirpin’, man!” Rans says, pinching Jack’s cheek. Jack slowly begins to smile.

Holster claps his hands. “Let’s get this show on the road! I wanna win so we can go take a nap in our new room!”

“Alright, here we go,” Bitty says, holding his phone up. “In three, two, one…Who is Shitty’s subscription to Cosmo addressed to?”

“Shi Ty Knight!” Ransom answers.

“Right. Back to Cosmo, how many copies of the July 1988 edition does Shitty have ‘hidden’ in his magazine collection?”

“Three!” Holtz answers next.

Bitty pauses the timer because they start to laugh too hard.

“Bro, that’s my _mother_!” Jack cries, slapping Shitty’s arm.

“And I respect your mother with every fiber of my being. She is a _lovely_ lady.”

“Thank you.”

Shitty reaches for his mug and brings it to his lips. “She was lovely in 1988, too.”

“I’m going to kill you,” Jack grumbles.

“Okay, okay!” Bitty calms the group. “Let’s go, three more.”

Bitty presses play on the timer and asks, “How many goals did Jack score in juniors against USA juniors?”

“Four!” both guys say simultaneously, then fist bump Jack.

“Who is Jack named after?”

“His great-grandfathers,” Ransom proudly answers.

“Last one,” Bitty says, “What is Shitty’s first name?”

Ransom eagerly motions to answer. “B—“

But he stops. The two boys look at each other confused. Shitty looks at them expectantly.

“Really, guys?”

“Five seconds!” Bitty reminds them.

“B..B…”

“Brandon? Braxton? Benjamin? Billy?”

Bitty’s timer goes off.

“No!” Ransom and Holster cry together.

“Hell ya!” Shitty yells, jumping off the couch. “Hug me, you beautiful Canadian!” He jumps on Jack and Jack laughs.

“What the fuck, Bitty?” Ransom argues. “That was unfair.”

“It’s not my fault y’all don’t know Shitty’s first name.”

“Do _you_ know Shitty’s first name?!”

“Well…I—“

“I demand a recount!”

“Hey, we won fair and square,” Shitty says, hugging Bitty. “Thanks, Bits.”

Jack pats Bitty’s shoulder, then the two of them go up the stairs to their new room.

It doesn’t take long to move Jack’s essentials next door. As much as he didn’t want to move, he likes winning more, so he takes the prize happily. Ransom and Holster’s bunk beds didn’t burn, so they spend the rest of the afternoon taking the bed apart to move it to Jack’s room.

They argue about the game for weeks, the entire time Bitty refusing to create a rematch. No matter, Holtz and Rans just chirp Jack about sleeping in the same room that holds three copies of his mother’s Cosmo magazine cover. 

**Author's Note:**

> I love writing these people as Friends characters.


End file.
